


Kink

by siriusblue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Written for the OTP Quotes Challenge by @otp-imagines-cult.tumblr.comPrompt #14 "Great, what did you bring home this time?





	Kink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egmon73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egmon73/gifts).



Written for the OTP Quotes Challenge by ótp-imagines-cult on Tumblr

 

Challenge #14 “Great, what did you bring home **this time?** ”

 

For @egmon73 who asked nicely. This went pretty kinky pretty fast…

 

 

Mycroft was standing at the cooker, the sleeves of his pristine white shirt rolled up to the elbows as he stirred the wok.

 

Greg Lestrade dumped the storage box on the kitchen table with a sigh and rolled his shoulders. It was heavier than it looked. He moved over to Mycroft and dropped a warm kiss on his husband’s neck.

 

“Hi love,” he murmured. “That smells amazing.”

 

“Perfect timing, Gregory,” said Mycroft with a smile. “It’s ready.”

 

Greg set the table, shifting the box onto the floor with a heavy thud.

 

Mycroft stood with the serving dish in his hands looking unamused, one quizzical eyebrow raised.

 

“Great,” he sighed. “What did you bring home from work **this time**?” he asked, indicating the box.

 

“Evidence from the sex club case we’re working with Vice,” replied Greg sheepishly. He had promised, even before they started living together, that he would try not to bring his work home with him. He had been mostly successful, but he’d never really been able to compartmentalise.

 

“I could have taken it to the Yard,” he continued, like a man pleading a first offence,” But it takes a braver man than me to let your chicken Teriyaki spoil.”

 

He tried an engaging grin but the Iceman refused to thaw.

 

“And it consists of what?” asked Mycroft.

 

“Just photographs. Scene of crime, that sort of thing.”

 

“Well, put it in the living room. I don’t want sordid material like that putting me off my dinner.

 

When Greg poured Mycroft a second glass of wine and Mycroft squeezed his hand, he knew he was forgiven.

 

Greg did the washing-up, talking nineteen to the dozen to Mycroft about the rest of his day and enquiring about his husband’s.

 

Mycroft’s responses got more and more distracted. Curious, Greg dried his hands and went into the living room to find Mycroft had opened the storage box and was leafing through the contents.

 

Most of the pictures were innocuous enough; sex toys, whips, paddles, handcuffs and cock rings, but some were deeply pornographic; couples, threesomes and multiples of that actually _using_ them.

 

Mycroft had one photograph in his hand, turning it through 90 degrees, trying to deduce who was putting what where.

 

Unconsciously he reached up and unfastened the top button of his shirt, pulling down his tie slightly.

 

Greg sat beside him unnoticed and was entranced to see a faint blush blossoming in the base of Mycroft’s throat and no amount of exquisite tailoring could hide his fast-growing erection.

 

Greg inhaled sharply. In all the years of knowing Mycroft he’d never imagined…

 

“Oh, my” whispered Mycroft as he picked up another picture. He looked up and realised he had an audience, so placed the photographs neatly back in the box.

 

“Gregory,” he said softly, his tongue flickering out to moisten his suddenly-dry lips.

 

“Does that turn you on?” asked Greg with a lascivious smile, his brown eyes glittering.

 

Mycroft swallowed hard. “Apparently so.”

 

He touched himself, his eyes fever-bright in his face. “Perhaps…?”

 

Greg felt dizzy, pleased he was sitting down as every drop of blood in his body seemed to have pooled in his groin.

 

“I’m willing if you are,” he whispered, guiding Mycroft’s hand to his own crotch and arching into his touch.

 

“Please…” begged Mycroft.

 

Greg stood up as he was so hard it was painful to sit. Nothing was hotter than hearing Mycroft beg. He grabbed him by the tie and raised him gently to his feet.

 

“Let’s start with my handcuffs…”

 

 

 

 


End file.
